


until we can’t stick any closer

by jacksmannequin



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Blow Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, actually theres some. in hiding, or do they? let's find out!, sort of kind of whatever, they dont like each other and then they like each other?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksmannequin/pseuds/jacksmannequin
Summary: “You’re really bad at taking hints.”“Am I?” Hyukjae’s eyes widen a little, his lower lip already on its way to one of his stupid pouts that Ryeowook one hundred percent does not find endearing in the slightest. “I don’t think I am.”“I think you are, or else you would’ve noticed that I am about to rip your head off by now.”Hyukjae hums under his breath. “That’s hot.”or,Maybe Ryeowook is the one who can’t take hints, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Relationships: Kim Ryeowook/Lee Hyukjae | Eunhyuk
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	until we can’t stick any closer

Due to no one else’s fault but his own, Ryeowook ends up in the library during lunch hour. Normally, it would even be a great deal—little to no people around means true, complete silence. Not to mention an actual shot at finding a spot where the Wi-Fi works. Today, those things fade into the background.

Today, he’s pissed at himself for choosing to ruin his life by enrolling into university, for being an idiot, for forgetting to submit one of the most important assignments for this semester on time, and for forgetting his lunch. Which might be the worst thing he’s had happening to him today, in all honesty. Lunch hour is sacred—he sits outside, eats his food, then heads back in for a few more hours of cramming. Like he always does, because he works better in random bursts of energy. Like he won’t do today, and he’s pissed about it.

His day is _ruined_.

He grunts a random noise of dissatisfaction under his breath and glares at his laptop. He’s going to get a reduction on his final grade for this, he just knows it, and he’s hungry. Today sucks. Today sucks _so_ much.

“Hello there.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ryeowook exclaims, attracting a pretty mean glare from the librarian. The one who already hates him, for the record. Because his day wasn’t awful enough on its own. He has history with that lady, and it’s not a good one, so he pretends nothing happened. “What the hell, Hyukjae.”

“On edge today, aren’t we?” Hyukjae’s unreasonably annoying face pops up in front of him from God knows where. Ryeowook instantly rolls his eyes. “Woke up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”

“Don’t you have classes to skip?”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Hyukjae says, claiming the chair next to his. Ryeowook rolls his eyes again, because of course Hyukjae would say that. The way he’s dressed certainly doesn’t make it seem like he’s about to head to class. More like a night of clubbing. “For you?”

“Nice arms,” Ryeowook says instead, choosing to ignore the remark. He glances at Hyukjae’s tank top with a frown on his face. Summer might be approaching, but there’s a limit to everything. “Very naked.”

“Thanks, I grew them myself,” Hyukjae says with his signature shit-eating grin, and Ryeowook suddenly feels a strong urge to bonk his head with a textbook.

“Very funny joke, never heard that one before.”

Hyukjae shifts closed to him, then subtly rests his hand on Ryeowook’s thigh under the table. Ryeowook pretends not to notice for some peace of mind.

“You sound stressed,” Hyukjae says, frowning at him with a slight tilt of his head.

“That’s because I am, I’m guessing,” Ryeowook shoots back, doing his best to keep his eyes firm on his laptop screen. It’s not like he’s seeing much on it—he’s still very much pissed off at everything that breathes, he’s tired, and Hyukjae’s hand is distracting. Even if Ryeowook dislikes it, the effect is still there. “You’re really bad at taking hints.”

“Am I?” Hyukjae’s eyes widen a little, his lower lip already on its way to one of his stupid pouts that Ryeowook one hundred percent does not find endearing in the slightest. Even the way he’s still seeing it in the corner of his eye is irritating him. He didn’t ask for peripheral vision when he was born. “I don’t think I am.”

“I think you are, or else you would’ve noticed that I am about to rip your head off by now,” Ryeowook says calmly.

Hyukjae hums under his breath, a quiet murmur that could either mean he knows and doesn’t care, or that he didn’t know _and_ doesn’t care.

“That’s hot.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ryeowook snaps, leaning back in his chair with a heavy sigh of resignation. “Today sucks so fucking much already. I hate it as it is. Go away and don’t add to my suffering.”

“No but really, is everything okay?” Hyukjae takes his hand off Ryeowook’s leg, which, thank God for that, and raises an eyebrow with a sense of concern on his face that feels mostly like it shouldn’t be there. Then, his hand moves to Ryeowook’s arm, and Ryeowook internally sighs again. “Ryeowook-ah?”

“Jesus, why are you like this?” He shuffles away from Hyukjae’s touch until Hyukjae actually takes his hand back with a scowl. “It’s unnerving. Stop asking questions when you don’t care about the answers.”

“Who told you I don’t care?”

Ryeowook scoffs, pointedly staring ahead of himself. Hyukjae’s eyes are on him, intensely so, and he’s sure of it even if he’s trying his best not to let it get to him.

“Please. You got what you wanted. I don’t get why you’re still bothering me. Wasn’t once enough?”

Hyukjae stays silent for a few seconds, and Ryeowook waits it out. He’s still pissed off, and this isn’t helping in any way.

“That’s a little unfair of you to say.”

“If thinking that makes you feel better, why not.”

“Not really,” Hyukjae says blankly.

Ryeowook gives a little shrug, admittedly a bit confused from the whole ordeal. Since when does Hyukjae care about what’s fair and what isn’t?

“Okay.”

He sits up straight and grabs his pen off the table, determined to get through his notes no matter what external distractions come his way. Hyukjae doesn’t seem satisfied with that, though. Not that Ryeowook was expecting him to be, but that certainly doesn’t make it any better.

“You seem to be straining your knuckles there.”

“Shut the hell up,” Ryeowook gets out through gritted teeth, his patience slowly running out. “You’re getting on my already exposed nerves.”

“I thought I could help with that, actually.”

Ryeowook quickly turns around, staring him down with a scowl. “What?”

“You know what,” Hyukjae says, any kind of anything even remotely close to hurt off his face for good. Which only goes to further prove Ryeowook’s point that this man most certainly does _not_ care. “Don’t play dumb.”

“You should shut up now,” Ryeowook says, but Hyukjae doesn’t back down.

“It’s kinda deserted in here,” he says instead, and he’s sitting closer to Ryeowook now, their legs almost touching. Ryeowook instantly wishes he hadn’t noticed. “You could use a distraction.”

Ryeowook’s breath stills for a split second. Hyukjae is way too close for his own good—his shoulder is almost brushing against Ryeowook’s arm, and his hand is back on his thigh, its warmth weighing down on his leg like an overbearing presence he can’t get rid of.

“I don’t think I could.”

Hyukjae’s hand travels up his leg, slowly, excruciatingly calculated, and Ryeowook stiffens under his touch.

“No one’s watching,” Hyukjae whispers, sensing his worry. Ryeowook tries not to dwell on how quickly he noticed. “Just like last week.”

“Not gonna happen,” Ryeowook whispers back, covering Hyukjae’s hand with his own.

It was meant as an attempt to grab it and get rid of it, but Hyukjae doesn’t take it that way. It really doesn’t even matter, what Ryeowook’s intentions were, because Hyukjae is a quick thinker—always has been—and he puts an end to it before Ryeowook can even do anything at all. Their fingers end up interlocked, much to Ryeowook’s disappointment, and still stationed on his thigh.

Hyukjae’s hand is surprisingly soft on his—softer than Ryeowook remembers it, and more delicate, almost restrained. Taken aback, Ryeowook looks up on instinct. Then instantly regrets it the second their eyes meet.

“Ryeowook-ah,” Hyukjae murmurs, holding his gaze with an unreadable look on his face. “What got you so stressed?”

“School,” Ryeowook just says, swallowing the lump in his throat. “As usual. Stuff you apparently can’t relate to.”

“Understandable.” Hyukjae nods, then gives a little squeeze on his hand. Ryeowook’s brain shuts off for a moment. “I’m going to ignore that last part.”

Ryeowook nods, too. Hyukjae is still staring at him with that same expression—the one Ryeowook can’t read at all, because it makes exactly zero sense. Because it scares him a little bit. Because it’s something he’s never seen on him.

“Okay,” he says, and abruptly stands up, snatching his hand away. Hyukjae looks up at him with wide, surprised eyes, tugging on feelings Ryeowook doesn’t really want to think about. “I have to look for a book. Be kind and take a look at my stuff from time to time.”

He takes off before Hyukjae can say anything else, determined to get to the one aisle that he knows to be forgotten by most students, begging to be left alone. There’s a slight heaviness to his breathing when he leans back against the shelves, even though he certainly didn’t run to get there.

As if he didn’t have enough reasons to be pissed off, now his own damn body is betraying him.

It’s annoying, and it’s a distraction, and it’s just more stress on top of all the stress he’s already keeping buried in his chest at all times. Dealing with his emotions is a nuisance that would just keep him distracted, and he can’t afford that. He has standards to live up to, and papers to write, and exams to ace.

Having anything to do with Lee Hyukjae isn’t on that list.

“I knew I would find you here.”

Ryeowook freezes up. He would recognize Hyukjae’s voice almost anywhere—weeks of dealing with his bullshit do that to you—and, even if it infuriates him, at least it gives him a headstart this time.

“What is it now?” he asks, in a way that’s admittedly a bit more hostile than necessary, but Hyukjae doesn’t seem to notice. “Did you leave my laptop unsupervised?”

“I asked the librarian to keep an eye on it,” Hyukjae says, appearing right in front of his face.

Effectively trapping him against the shelves behind his back.

“The one who can’t stand me?” Ryeowook swallows, an unpleasant feeling brewing in his chest. “Good job.”

“She won’t burn it, that’s for sure.” Hyukjae raises an eyebrow. “Are you sweating?”

“No,” Ryeowook says, confused. “What?”

Hyukjae shrugs. “You look nervous.”

“That’s your fault,” Ryeowook blurts out before he can stop himself. “You’re still getting on my nerves. Why did you follow me?”

“Well, I’m sure I didn’t interrupt anything.” Hyukjae takes the last step towards him, their bodies now mere inches apart. He leans in, placing a hand on the shelf at the right side of Ryeowook’s head. Ryeowook recoils a little but doesn’t react otherwise. “I don’t see any books in your hands.”

“I was still looking for it,” Ryeowook says with a straight face.

“I’m sure you were.”

Silence falls between them for a couple of moments. Ryeowook is sure that if he focused hard enough, he could have both his own heartbeat and Hyukjae’s breath rising and falling in his chest mixed up in his ears. It’s an intense handful of seconds—Hyukjae doesn’t look like he wants to back off, and Ryeowook wouldn’t know how to do that, either. Their eyes are locked, Hyukjae’s staring right back at him with a weird intensity that leaves Ryeowook disoriented for a split second.

“I was,” Ryeowook says, eventually.

“You were what?” Hyukjae says back, and he’s leaning in even closer, his eyes still as piercing as ever.

“The book.” Ryeowook finds himself swallowing out of apprehension once again, until something snaps in him. “It doesn’t matter. I needed a moment.”

Hyukjae nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “For what?”

“To calm down.”

“Right.” Hyukjae nods again, eyes narrowing. “And have you?”

“You stopped the process.” Ryeowook inhales sharply. “If you could leave, that’d be greatly appreciated.”

“We both know you don’t really want that,” Hyukjae murmurs, dangerously close to Ryeowook’s ear. Hyukjae’s hair brushes against his cheek as he moves forward, his lips almost grazing Ryeowook’s jawline, and a shiver runs down his spine at the contact. “Come on now.”

“Yeah.” Ryeowook takes a deep breath, deeply distracted by how close Hyukjae actually is. “Yeah, I don’t. Doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Ryeowook scoffs. “Why are you still trying, then?”

“You are so adorably clueless,” is Hyukjae’s only response before he pulls away and dives back in, crashing their lips together.

Ryeowook’s entire body automatically goes stiff, taken aback by the sudden attack, but it doesn’t take much for him to give up on his self-control. It’s not the first time, and it’s not anything he wasn’t expecting to happen, so it’s easier to let himself go. Let Hyukjae do what he does best.

Which is kissing you like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Hyukjae is really good at doing that, just like he is at most things that involve two bodies and skin contact. He’s gentle, in a way, but never too much, never enough to make you feel as if he’s hesitating, or isn’t one hundred percent sure that the other person is completely into it.

He knows, and Ryeowook knows he knows, because it’s profoundly clear in his every action. He’s not used to being rejected, and Ryeowook has no intentions to be the first. Lord knows he would like to, but he’s never been good at saying no. Especially to Hyukjae.

“Wookie,” Hyukjae whispers on his lips, his breath heavy as they come apart gasping for air. “Let me help you.”

“Yeah,” Ryeowook exhales, mouth parted, and his hair messed up by Hyukjae’s fingers, “okay, yeah.”

Once it’s out of his mouth, Hyukjae doesn’t let him say it twice. His hands are on Ryeowook’s waist at the speed of light, as if Ryeowook’s word had been the only thing stopping him from it, and Ryeowook can already feel himself growing hard by the second. Responding to every little touch Hyukjae offers his skin as he tries to get him out of his pants.

“If anyone sees us—”

“No one will,” Hyukjae quickly says, sounding way too sure of himself. “Ryeowook-ah. Relax.”

“Thanks, I’m cured,” Ryeowook says, not even trying to hide the sarcasm, until he blurts out, “Holy—”

Hyukjae’s fingers are suddenly cold at the touch, but maybe Ryeowook is just the one whose skin is catching on fire. He shivers in Hyukjae’s hand, unable to stop himself from doing it, and Hyukjae’s subsequent smirk is unmissable against Ryeowook’s lips.

He starts slowly, at first, split between capturing Ryeowook’s tongue in an oddly languid kiss and working on his length in slow, calculated strokes that only add to Ryeowook’s growing impatience.

“You’re too smart to be working so hard all the time,” Hyukjae whispers, his hot breath mixing with Ryeowook’s. Ryeowook’s eyes flutter shut, head tilted back, and Hyukjae bends forward to reach out and rest his hand on the back of Ryeowook’s neck. “It’s okay to slow down, sometimes.”

“Why do you think I’m so smart?” Ryeowook mutters, too distracted to give it the extra snark it needs. “It’s exactly because I work hard all the time.”

“You’re so smart because you have a brilliant mind _and_ you work all the time to use it well,” Hyukjae says, and he sounds way too articulate for what they’re currently doing. Maybe because Hyukjae isn’t the one who’s getting a handjob in the back of a library, but Ryeowook can’t help but think that it’s a little insulting. “But it won’t kill you to take it easy from time to time, Wookie. You’re just piling up stress.”

“You are part of my stress,” Ryeowook murmurs, and Hyukjae, the little shit, squeezes just a little too hard and almost gets a yelp out of him. “Fuck—damn it. Why do you even care? Lord.”

“It’s offensive that you’re still asking.”

Hyukjae lets out a quiet scoff, and Ryeowook hesitates for a second, that annoying heaviness he didn’t ask for back in his chest, settling down and making itself at home without his permission. Soon enough, Hyukjae lets go of his head and leans on Ryeowook’s shoulder, resting his chin on it. Then, he hides his face in the crook of Ryeowook’s neck and presses his thumb on the head of his dick, making him gasp and pulling his consciousness back to Earth.

He keeps teasing him for a few excruciating seconds, just as Ryeowook would expect from him—it’s torture, in a way, but it’s distracting enough for his mind to travel to far more interesting places than his biology notes. He has to bite down on his lower lip to keep himself from making any kind of noise that would give them away, and Hyukjae does absolutely nothing to help him with it.

His strokes have gotten quicker, more rushed, and Ryeowook can tell just by how his wrist movements have changed that what he’s doing is getting to him, too. Hyukjae’s only response to that is to leave a kiss on his collarbone, and then there’s more involved, like teeth and tongue and a large amount of restraint on Ryeowook’s part to keep himself from breaking into a loud moan that would ruin them both the second it’s out.

“You know what,” he says, desperate to keep his voice busy in other ways, “it’s offensive that you still haven’t told me.”

Hyukjae leaves a final kiss on his neck, and Ryeowook instantly knows there’s going to be a mark there that he won’t know how to explain really, really soon.

“Ryeowook-ah,” Hyukjae whispers, pulling on his cock once more. It’s starting to send him into overdrive, and the way he says his name is so sweet and _so_ unfair, and damn it—Ryeowook almost loses it. “Do you think I let just anyone fuck me like you did?”

Ryeowook lets out a sharp breath that might as well have turned into a gasp.

“How would I know that—fuck, do that again.”

“If you let me explain it to you,” Hyukjae says through gritted teeth, dragging his thumb across a thicker vein before he smears more pre-come all over it, and Ryeowook barely holds back a whimper just in time, “maybe you would know that I don’t, and that I wanted you to do it because it’s you—fuck, don’t move.”

“What does that even mean,” Ryeowook manages to say, forgetting to make it sound like a question, and _fuck,_ he’s so close that—

“I literally like you, you thick-headed dumbass,” Hyukjae growls, then drops to his knees.

“You what—holy fuck.”

Now _that_ wasn’t in Ryeowook’s plans for today, but Hyukjae is doing it anyway, because he always does what he wants, and if what he wants is to have Ryeowook’s dick in his mouth in public, all Ryeowook has left to do is comply.

His words haven’t completely registered yet—mostly because the confession is so outlandish that Ryeowook’s pretty sure he dreamed it.

He doesn’t even have the time to dwell on it too much, because Lee Hyukjae is on his knees in front of him, his lips around Ryeowook, and that’s distracting enough on its own—let alone when Ryeowook was really close enough to the edge without that sight under him.

Hyukjae closes his eyes and dives in, and it’s rushed, maybe a little desperate, just enough for Ryeowook to let out a stifled moan into his fist and tremble against the shelves. Hyukjae’s tongue keeps working in hurried motions, his lips on their way to being swollen already, and every time he pulls back and sinks into it again, Ryeowook’s self-control gets destroyed a bit more.

“I’m close,” Ryeowook manages to warn him, and he’s not sure how Hyukjae intends to deal with the mess that will follow, but everything is better than a sudden surprise. “Oh my God, don’t—”

Unsurprisingly, Hyukjae doesn’t react. What he does instead is taking him in deeper, his mouth closing around Ryeowook’s erection fully, and before he knows it, Ryeowook can’t hold back anymore.

“Fuck fuck _fuck,_ ” he curses into his hand and comes, at last, spilling into Hyukjae’s mouth.

Hyukjae doesn’t pull back—if anything, he seems even more eager now, and all Ryeowook can do is stare at him with wide eyes as he swallows and licks his dick clean, small beads of sweat on his forehead, lips strikingly red. It’s weirdly breathtaking, and almost enough to get him going again.

Hyukjae’s tongue peeks out of his parted lips as he licks them and offers Ryeowook a small smile that goes right to his chest.

“You are the most oblivious motherfucker I’ve ever had the displeasure of confessing to,” Hyukjae says, fishing a tissue out of his pocket to wipe his incriminated hand with. Ryeowook pulls his pants up, still not completely there with his brain yet. “Congratulations. Oh, I need a bathroom, I think.”

“I don’t get it,” Ryeowook says.

“This,” Hyukjae waves at him with the same hand, “needs some soap.”

“Not that.” Ryeowook blinks at him. “The confessing stuff.”

Hyukjae looks at him as if he just grew three more heads.

“I like you?”

“Okay,” Ryeowook says. “Why?”

“I don’t know? You’re fun. I just do.”

“Oh.”

Hyukjae raises an eyebrow.

“If you’re trying to say you don’t feel the same, could you do it more explicitly?”

Ryeowook gapes at him like a fish, strongly convinced this might turn out to be a prank and he’ll end up on the YouTube trends by tomorrow.

“I—” He pauses, then blinks again. “I don’t think I am trying to do that?”

A smile makes its way onto Hyukjae’s face, and Ryeowook is saddened to report that it was enough to make his heart do a little backflip. For fuck’s sake.

“Well, if that was a question, I’m afraid I don’t know what to answer to it.”

“Yeah, I’m—” Ryeowook sighs. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Whatever you want.” Hyukjae shrugs. “Do you like me at least a little, or have I been clowning myself into believing you do?”

Ryeowook’s brain is running at full speed by now, and every thought is even more confusing than the one that came before. Hyukjae is still staring at him, a little smile still lingering on his lips. It almost makes him smile, too, and maybe Ryeowook should know the answer to Hyukjae’s question just from that.

“I think I kind of like you?” He takes a deep breath. “I mean. You’re really fucking annoying sometimes, but I probably get why now. Sorry for being kind of mean—”

“You’re such a loser,” Hyukjae cuts him off, then grabs Ryeowook’s wrist with his clean hand. “I know you forgot to bring your lunch with you. Let me wash my hands and get your stuff back so I can buy you food.”

“But—”

“Nope,” Hyukjae says, dragging Ryeowook with him. “Shut the hell up. One afternoon won’t kill you.”

Ryeowook follows him, wide-eyed and, much to his own disappointment, a little excited.

“Can I at least go through one more set of notes before—”

“No.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't care to see my unrelated screaming, find me on my [writing focused account](http://twitter.com/parallelshyuk), otherwise i'm over at my [personal twt](http://twitter.com/homewithkyu) and on [curious cat](http://curiouscat.qa/parallelshyuk) ^^


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